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Dan Torsch, 24, was a diehard Ravens fan who, in a photo his mother shared with I-Team reporter Deborah Weiner, tried to cover stadium signs at Heinz Field in Pittsburgh with purple pride. That was Torsch's public face, but privately, he was a heroin addict who struggled four times in rehab to get clean until he overdosed in his parent's Perry Hall home.

"When we turned him over, he seemed to be gurgling. We couldn't save him," his mother, Toni Torsch, said.

She said the only thing more devastating than losing her son was discovering that there is an overdose-blocking drug that is saving lives.

"As a parent that loses a child, you want to know that we did everything we could to be able to save him. So, I was sad to know that I could have if I had it. It would have made a difference, and I'll never know," she said.

Weiner reported that only Dan Torsch could have obtained the prescription antidote, not his mother.

The antidote is called naloxone, sold under the name Narcan, and officials said it's a fast-acting drug that blocks the effects of opiates on the brain and restores breathing.

While the law prohibits Toni Torsch from getting it for a loved one, in Baltimore City, those in drug treatment can get it to potentially help save their addicted friends, Weiner reported. Baltimore City health officials said the antidote is so powerful that they are giving it away.

"I got a lot of friends into this kind of stuff, and this will help -- even help me," said a man the I-Team talked to who only identified himself as Ed.

Drug treatment expert: Antidote gives no incentive to stop

But it's the wrong kind of help, according to Mike Gimbel, one of the most widely known drug treatment and prevention experts in the area.

"We give them clean needles so they don't get AIDS. We give them Narcan so they don't die. What are we going to give them next, heroin? Because the reality is, why (should they) stop?" Gimbel said.

Supporters of the antidote treatment disagreed.

"We come from the idea that we are going to reduce harm as best as we can and give people the tools to survive, and it's kind of why we do what we do," explained Chris Serio-Chapman of the Baltimore City Health Department.

The city's drug overdose prevention program is called Staying Alive, and it's funded through Baltimore's Needle Exchange, the only program of its kind in Maryland. After instructions that include rescue breathing, a doctor writes the prescription for Narcan, Weiner reported.

"It is not a dangerous drug in and of itself. It is not addictive. It counteracts the effects of opiates like heroin," said the Health Department's Dr. Patrick Chaulk. He said it also helps with cocaine and addictive painkillers.

Since the program began in 2004, the Health Department said 9,300 people have been trained. While it is hard to nail down specific numbers because people often don't report back, city officials confirmed there were at least 220 overdose reversals.

"It isn't the magic bullet, but it does save lives," Serio-Chapman said.

But some worry that if the fear of overdosing gets taken away, the motivation to get clean could also disappear. The man named Ed told the I-Team he saved his friend's life with Narcan five years ago, and that friend is still an addict.

The distribution of Narcan -- at $38 per kit -- is credited with lowering the city's overdose death rate, which is on the rise in Baltimore County, where Dan Torsch lived. Emergency responders do carry Narcan, but in his case, it was too late.

Toni Torsch said she wants it to be readily accessible to loved ones.

"For anyone that has a person in addiction living with them, they should have access to this," she said.

Torsch said she is holding onto the notion that it might have made a difference for her son and many other young lives, but she is left with the empty feeling that she will never know for sure.

She serves on a task force devising the first-of-its-kind statewide overdose prevention plan. Expanding the availability of Narcan is one of the options on the table.